


A Normal Date

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Punisher (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Dating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: David gets one (1) normal date a year.





	A Normal Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kokopellifacetattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokopellifacetattoo/gifts).

The thing was, in the midst of all the crazy bullshit that suddenly made up his whole life, David was a normal fucking guy. Hell, he didn't even have any augments -- that was maybe the weirdest thing about him, actually. 

Okay, maybe the illegal modification business was weirder. 

Or working with Frank fucking pain-in-the-ass Castle and his ever-growing slew of augmented and inhuman acquaintances. David's humble off-market, bellow-board workshop went from being a place high-paying customers who wanted work done that was either too expensive to get through legal means or straight up against the law went from being constantly booked with appointments and the occasional walk/crawl/drag in, to being 'closed for emergency' half the time while Micro scurried to patch a bunch of vigilantes together. 

Stress. Stress on top of stress on top of stress, and if he ever thought Frank was going to help alleviate some of that in any permanent, real way, he was out of his fucking mind. Frank wasn't a bad guy, but his threshold for what constituted stressful compared with David's? Not even on the same wavelength.

The one bastion of stress-free interaction was Foggy. 

Foggy and David had a nebulous, undefined Arrangement that had lasted since they'd met in grad school. David was in engineering, Foggy was doing legal work, they'd hook up in the school library once a week, study for a few hours, and then hang a sock on David's door and fuck the stress away. Falling asleep with someone who wasn't going to try sneaking away in the morning, who stayed in his bed and cuddled, had been comforting. For both of them, he guessed, because when he graduated -- a full year ahead of Foggy -- they'd kept in touch.

Of course, life gets busy. Life gets hectic. People fall out of touch, or stop being able to see each other in meat-space as frequently as they might like. Their once-a-week-or-more thing because once a month, once every few months, to now, where they both forcibly carved a day out of their schedule once a year, and made that Their Day.

The thing was, David wasn't the only one stressed, and he wasn't the only one with a shit-ton of off-the-books baggage he needed to but couldn't talk about. David returns the favour of Foggy never prying about his business or his private life; they respect each other enough to know better than to try digging after things they themselves can't talk about. 

David knows Foggy well enough to know he'd be horrified by a lot of what has just become normal for David. He tries to think, probably too optimistically, that whatever it is Foggy can't talk about, it's a hell of a lot more pleasant. 

Dates are normal affairs. They both have enough fuckery in their day-to-day, so they agree, without talking and with immense relief on both parts, to do the most milquetoast variety of dating. Catch a movie, nice restaurant, go to a museum, look at some nice fucking art.  _ Normal shit _ , that's all either of them want. 

A few years ago, before Frank staggered into David's life and brought with him all the trial and tribulation that came with his vigilante, thrill-hunting bullshit, David had always been the more relaxed of the two. He'd buy Foggy dinner and listen to him gripe in vague terms about his crazy partner, the bugshit legal cases he worked, the stresses of living in the thick of the city when it seemed like every week some new masked idiot showed up, heroics optional. And when they'd both had their fill of night life and a good meal, David would drive Foggy back to his apartment and they'd fuck away the stress, like old times. Most times, Foggy would stay the night, cook breakfast, kiss him before they had to go back to nothing but texts for another year.

For the last -- David counts on his fingers under the table -- five years, there's been someone else in his apartment. Or someone who has a key to his apartment who might show up at random and David didn't want chasing off his Very Normal Best Friend-Slash-Romantic-Slash-Sex Partner. It was bad enough hearing Frank's snide comments about 'Micro's date night bow tie', he absolutely did not need Foggy coming face-to-face with the fucking Punisher in the dead of night in his apartment.

One year they'd tried going to Foggy's place. A mistake that would not be repeated, as someone had broken in to wait for Foggy and Foggy and shoved David back out into the hall and kissed him goodbye with a million apologies before slamming the door and going to deal with whoever was waiting for him.

Another year they'd tried to fuck in the backseat of the David's van. He'd even put a camping mattress in the back. He thinks his back is still complaining. 

Last year had been the saddest, parked in a dark alley a few blocks from Foggy's place trading desperate hand-jobs in the front seat. Never again. 

And see, the thing was, David doesn't want this thing, nebulous and stretched out as it's become, to break off or dissipate because it's gotten complicated. He _likes_ the normalcy with Foggy. He likes feeling like things are, for a few hours, stressful but _normal, manageable._

The bill comes and David hands off his ID chit, money coming out of his personal, completely legit account instead of one of the offshore ones he used pretty much for everything else. Foggy is already looking fidgety, probably thinking about how much last time sucked, and David says, wincing at his own awkwardness, "I booked a room at that new hotel that just went up in Long Island."

It's a relief to see Foggy brighten at that, grinning like David just told him the answer to his worst troubles. Maybe he did; good sex solves a lot of things. 

"No sad front seat hand jobs?" Foggy asks, grin twisting to something teasing-mean. "That's damn near romantic, David."

"Yeah, well, guess I'm just destined to play your sugar daddy" David shoots back, taking his ID from the waiter. He's amused to see a faint blush brighten Foggy's cheeks. "You know I don't mind putting in a little effort for you."


End file.
